Between Dates and Cupcakes
by IWantYouInMyLife
Summary: Peter has a date. The Avengers try to help.


**Author's Note: This story is a sequel of "Between Bets and Refrigerators", although it can be read separately as well. I hadn't thought of making a second part for this universe… yet, here it is. Peter is still confused, and shit is still not making sense.**

* * *

Peter rushed out of the elevator, breathing a sigh in relief at sight of the group sprayed all over the chairs and couch in front of the TV. He wouldn't have to hunt them down to get his answers.

Clint turned his head the second the elevator's doors closed, smiling in greeting. "Hey, kid, how was uni today?"

But Peter had no time for small-talk. He had an emergency in his hands. "I need help," he said instead, dropping his backpack onto the floor and practically jumping toward them.

He had said the magical words, and instantly all eyes were on him, studying his physical appearance while trying to determine what was wrong.

"What happened?" Tony asked, getting up from his place on the couch. "J, give me a scan—"

"No, no, wait. Not that — there's nothing wrong with me. There's no time for this — you have to help me. This really hot guy asked me on a date today," Peter explained, stopping in front of the group.

Natasha leaned forward. "Is he harassing you? Just say the word — I can make him go away."

"Yeah. Give me ten minutes with him, and I can make him wet himself on camera," Bucky offered, with a blank face, as though he provided those types of help on a daily basis. Which, come to think of it, he probably did.

"Nice," Clint nodded in approval.

Peter shook his head, exasperated. "Guys, no. Why would I-? You know what, never mind. He wants to go on a proper date, you know? Pick me up and everything. Only I can't exactly tell him that I live in the tower and have him come to pick me up here."

"Oh, that," Tony relaxed, sitting back down. "Damn, kid, way to give me a heart attack. For fuck's sake. I have a house you can use in—"

"Uh, no offenses, Mr. Stark, but I think one of your mansions may bring me the wrong kind of attention. As a college student and all," Peter tried to explain, holding back the grimace at the mental picture of Tony's idea of a house. Yep, not happening.

"I have a pretty good farm," Clint offered, stretching his back. "Last summer I even bought an oven."

"I recall Fury describing your little Martha Stewart moment as an inappropriate use of government property," Natasha deadpanned, eyebrow raised.

"I don't get it. Did you steal an oven?" Bruce asked, finally joining the conversation.

"Guys! Not that the oven story isn't an interesting bonding moment, but can we focus for a minute here, please? I can't pretend to live on a farm," Peter very much not whined — _thank you_.

"Not on Clint's shitty farm, that's for sure," Bucky grumbled. "That place fucking stinks."

"Oi, you take that back, you—"

Tony slapped the back of Clint's head, stopping the man in mid-sentence. "Will you shut up? Peter, if using my house makes you uncomfortable, perhaps we can buy a place? How expansive can an apartment around here be? I'll ask JARVIS—"

"NO!" Peter jumped to intervene, flaying his hand around. "Absolutely not! That would be a total waste of money. I just want a place for one night."

"Well, I have a hideout in Brooklyn that has seventeen guns hidden all over the place. You can use that one, and if the guy turns out to be an asshole, you can just shoot him and be done with it."

Everyone turns to look at Bucky after his pronouncement. He didn't seem to be joking, though. Peter tries to come up with a gentle way of rejecting the offer without offending the soldier.

"Uh…"

Natasha shrugged. "Seems good. I have a place around here with three different types of vodka stashed in the kitchen. Decent stuff. Getting him drunk could be a good idea for a first date — get him talking to see if he's hiding something."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure if that would be a good idea." Peter scratched his head. He looked at Bruce for help, hoping the doctor would have a better suggestion — preferably something that didn't scare his date to death.

"Hey, don't look at me, kid. I've got nothing. I can go with you, though, if you need help. Since the day I kind of destroyed… Harlem, people go all sorts of twitchy around me."

Honestly, sometimes Peter wondered if the prolonged exposure to alien attacks and different chemicals had somehow extinguished all the sanity from these people.

"No-I, thanks for the offer — I suppose — but it won't be necessary."

That was the moment Steve joined them, obviously coming from the gym if one could judge by his sweaty clothes. He took one look at the group, with Peter standing awkwardly in the center, trying to come up with a good enough solution to his precarious situation, and asked:

"Is there a problem?"

"Our little spider went and got himself a date, actually," Tony said, throwing a half-empty bottle of water at the super-soldier.

The man caught it mid-air, smiling at the news. "Really? That's awesome! What's his name?" Steve asked, his smile sliding away as a look of contemplation found its way to his face. "Perhaps we should just do a background check to see if—"

"Stevie, for fuck's sake! Not that the whole dad thing doesn't work for you — 'cause, babe, it so does —, but maybe lay off the kid's back for a bit," Bucky suggested, shrugging. "Besides, I've already offered a place with guns, and he turned me down."

"A place with guns? For the date? Is he dangerous, then?"

Peter groaned, face-palming. "Guys, seriously. I can take care of myself against one civilian man, 'kay? Let's just focus on the matter at hand."

"I did offer—"

"Stop throwing your money in our faces, Tony. You're smothering me!" Clint yelled theatrically, placing his hand on his chest. "Can't you see this is a family's deal?"

"You know, Birdman, I'm the one dropping you off and picking you up when you jump. Don't think I can't let you break a leg or two," Tony threatened.

"I'm telling Wanda you said that."

"Oh my God, how emasculated can you be?"

"I have a psychic girlfriend, man. If I don't use that card, then what's even the point of our relationship?" Clint rebutted, unconcerned.

As they carried on bickering, Peter was seriously considering just leaving in search of a better adult — someone who was, you know, more successful at adulting than them. Before he could, though, the elevator doors opened again, and Darcy came out, holding the biggest box of cupcakes in her hands.

"Yo, Spidey, what's with the sad puppy face? Finally realized that you're way too good and cute to hang around these losers?"

"Excuse me? Did someone invite you, Lewis?" Tony asked, his head turning sharply at the sound of her voice.

"I live here," she deadpanned, opening the box in front of Peter. "Here, cutey, grab a cupcake."

Peter grabbed two, in no position to be denying chocolate being offered to him. He shoved one in his mouth, speaking around the food. "I have a date."

"Sweeet! On a scale from Tony-lacking-forty-hours-of-sleep to shirtless-Thor, how hot is he?"

"How dare you, lazy Regina George? I look perfect even without a proper sleep schedule," Tony defended himself.

Peter grinned, though, ignoring his mentor. "He's Richard Gere-in-Pretty Woman hot," he said, knowing Darcy had the biggest teenage crush on the man.

She raised her eyebrows all the way up her forehead, ignoring when Peter dived for more cupcakes. "He's not," she denied.

"He kind of is, actually."

"I'm way hotter than Richard Gere," Tony mumbled.

"Sure you are," Bruce comforted, patting the man's leg.

"Who's Richard Gere?" Steve asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Damn, that wasn't even a new reference," Clint grimaced. "Man, you're old."

"I'm not obligated to know every single actor ever, Clint."

"I know who he is," Bucky said, smugly.

Tony grinned. "We all knew you locked yourself in your room to secretly watch chick flicks, RoboCop. Nice to hear you confirm it."

"I can still kill you, Stark. Don't tempt me."

"What's the deal, then?" Darcy asked, finally setting the box on Clint's lap, which seemed to be all the permission the others needed to dive right in to steal handfuls of cupcakes.

"David wants to pick me up, and I can't exactly tell him where I live," Peter explained one more time, licking his fingers. "Can't have him here. Obviously."

Sam walked into the room, freshly showered, just as Peter opened his mouth to speak, and as soon as he finished describing his white-boy-problem, the veteran raised an eyebrow.

"That's your problem?" he asked, unimpressed. "You can use my place — I still have it. To, you know, get away from you annoying people sometimes. It's fucking normal and everything."

"What? You still have it?" Steve asked, surprised. "Wait, we're not annoying!"

"Shhh. So, can I use it? Seriously?" Peter demanded, smiling at the man in question. When he only shrugged and nodded, Peter jumped forward to hug him. "Man, you're the best!"

"Sure am, kid, and don't you forget it," Sam agreed, patting him on the head before side-stepping to say, "Hey, you, Taser Chick, throw me a cupcake, will you? I'm fucking starving."

"Are you just ignoring me?" Steve pressed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yep."

Grinning at the accomplished mission, Peter grabbed his backpack and ran for the elevator, pausing just before he entered to ask Darcy.

"Hey, wanna help me figure out what clothes to wear?"

She grinned. "Hell yeah, I do. Free show and all that."

"Hey! No groping the underage kid!" Tony called out, trying to look intimidating while he was leaned over Natasha to grab the cupcake in Bucky's hands.

"Not underage anymore!" Peter reminded him, waving away and allowing the elevator doors to close.

The last thing he saw was the man grumbling something under his breath about kids who grew up too fast.


End file.
